I know you're struggling.
And that it hurts so much,
you clutch your heart,
the en-ending, unrelenting,
mire of ache,
and each tiny feather,
pulled free reminds you,
of what it means to break.

But after the storm has finished her sad raging,
the glass is empty and contemplating,
and the pleiades dance is waiting,

Just then, you will see a spark,
tiny, shining, spark,
giving birth to light,
a seed of promise,
buried deep,  
cradled by the night,
and this will be the
healing hope,
that lets you down,
from the hang man's
rope,
that kisses your
tear stained cheeks,
and holds you up for weeks,
reminding you that a
seed must die before it blooms,
and honey it's your turn to bloom.

(c) Dm 2015

As I love you,
you are sunsets over dusty
desert canyons,
As I love you,
you are bird song
sung over harps.

As I love you,
I am fearful,
we will not laugh
as we once did.
I am afraid I ask too
much,
from your broken
heart,
I am mindful of your forgotten,
starlings burried long ago,
sleeping in soil,
and earth,
and root and
stone.

But darling,
they do not sleep alone.

Dm (c) 2015

Significant,
how smiles,
convert to heartbreak,
and somber moments,
feign joy-

When heart?
Will you stop
reminding me,
of hopes
crushed?
closest
moments to flight,
brushed,
aside
for the impact
of ground,
As I spiral down,
wax wings melting now.

When heart?
Will you stop
betraying me,
with a memory,
of a warm hand,
with a memory,
of a stolen kiss,
or a secret smile?

When will you
heal or at
least grow
cold and let me
sleep in dream,
stop beating,
so that I might not
hope.

and yet,
hope and dreams are dangerous things,
they can be your noose- or they can be your wings.

I found that the distance I intend,
and the distance I keep,
are far from the same.

I find the train you follow
and the train you take,
are far from the same
mistake to make.

Quick and quiet goes the
swift sound of swirling gears,
making moments of thought,
distant and near.

It is found that passion and
agony are as close as life and death-

All in the same breath.

(c) Dm 2015

I know I should be sleeping,
but the clock reminds me,
that I still sleep alone.

I should be sleeping,
but the emptiness of this place,
has never let it be a home.

Today I watched a wounded
deer, struggle off the road,
his legs partially broken,
and his head deeply bowed.


And I said a prayer for that
place in which he lives,
because I live there far too often-
granted I've no broken bones,
to speak of,
but some hearts live in coffins.

I know I should be sleeping,
but the clock reminds me,
that I still sleep alone.

Somewhere deep inside
the depths of me,
there must be music,
even though the strings are broken.

All of these dreams,
and all of these ghosts,
I chased are gone.
And all of these hopes,
I held so high,
have simply moved on,
and so have I.
-dm (c) 2015

captured by angels
You

shadowless eyes,
helped me through sorrow,
stolen light from,
diamonds and seas.

YOU

bird-less flight,
embittered but quiet,
helped my heart,
captured unrequited,

you.

Dedicated to
angels,
lingering
on pages of fire,
around your head,
like a crown of
roses,  
my smoldering heart.

dm (c) 2015

blush

Soft wishes on
october days,
makes me wish you
weren't so far away.

Even if its just a thought,
you know you really are
the best friend I've got.

The time has passed,
and makes us old,
leaves only moments,
of silver and gold.

I know that life is
weird and sad,
but you're awesome,
and I'm rad.

We should meet,
and hug. Often.

Dm (c) 2015

A moment passes and something beautiful dies,
there were watercolor constellations,
dappled, darkling gems of light,
behind us, glinting in jasper, and violet skies,
but now only darkness,
the constellations in silent splendor,
bleeding fire from my eyes,
the constellations of
diamonds have fallen,
and once where my heart found laughter,
only tears remain,
and once in silence I trusted-
such deep hopes!
Higher than all before them,
a daredevil on the wire!
Now a ball of fire,
forward motion, now sinking in those hopes,
slowly tangled by the noose of their ropes,
you would think after a year or so,
one could let go, let go!
And how?
I don't know-
how to express that
yesterday is a slave to tomorrow,
for we have taken what was not ours to borrow,
the wicked borrow and do not repay,
that has become our culture, this our way,
"even in laughter the heart may sorrow"
so how does this story end?
It ends with a whimper,
and mangled hopes,
a harpist's hand severed in the machine,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
The sad singer with his tongue severed,
can never speak out,
can only scream,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
-dm (c) 2015

She is a sunflower,
hair soft like cornsilk,
freckles,
the lines
in her smile,
honey,
sit with me,
entangled,
entwined,
wishing,
can I rewind?
Pause time?
As she sings,
finds me,
wishing,
that she wasn't
so high up on
a string,
out of reach,
like summer memories,
past.
Good morning you
work of art,
good morning heart,
sad to know she's
out of reach.
dm 2015

Sometimes I paint my heart
with stars and colors,
paint over the blackness
that hurt exposes,
inky and desperate
for your cotton candy heart,
I paint the colors of dreams,
denim and greens,
the embrace of summer air,
as the sunset fades,
the crickets singing
tiny hallelujahs,
a gentle wind kissing your hair,
I paint the river of lights,
handlebars at midnight,
and hold onto the ghost of
these nights.
Something living,
something true.
Comforting kisses catch me
quietly, as you whisper,
“Everything for you.
Sometimes I don’t say it
but it’s always for you.”